


It's Five O Clock Somewhere

by NotEvenCloseToStraight



Series: Playlist [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Boners, Awkward Flirting, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, First Kisses, Friends to Lovers, Its Five OClock Somewhere, M/M, Matt Fraction's Hawkeye, Sexual Humor, Short & Sweet, Song fic, Truth or Dare, they are a mess, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight
Summary: Bucky and Clint end up alone at the compound while everyone else is out on a mission.Shenanigans ensue.///////////////////“Barton.”“OHMYGOD!” Clint shrieked and froze mid step, mouth agape, eyes wide, holding a giant sandwich in one hand and a fruity looking drink in the other. “Oh my god. Frosty, my man you scared the shit outta me. What are you doing?”“No no.” Bucky shook his head and squinted at the drink, at the quintuple layered sandwich, at the way Clint had gotten all six foot three of himself into ratty purple sweatpants and crop top that definitely belonged to Natasha. “What are You doing?”“Hanging out.” Clint said, as if that explained anything at all. “What does it look like?”“It looks like you’re gettin’ drunk at half past twelve in the afternoon.” Bucky pointed out. “Caterwaulin’ to some awful song, wearing stolen clothes and about to eat enough food to put you into a coma.”“Is it only half past twelve?” Clint looked faintly surprised, then shrugged it off. “Welp. It’s gotta be five o clock somewhere. Wanna get drunk with me?”





	It's Five O Clock Somewhere

[{{YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHICH SONG THIS IS ABOUT}}](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPCjC543llU)

Bucky hated being benched, hated being put on the sidelines, hated being sat at home in the compound while Steve took the rest of the team out to save the world. 

He understood _why _people didn’t want to see the Winter Soldier running around out in the world again. He understood why his activities were heavily monitored, why he was only allowed to help on missions that were nothing more than good PR opportunities. 

Steve had been quick to forgive the Soldier’s past, the team had come along shortly and Tony– somehow even _Tony _treated Bucky as if nothing was wrong between them. Here within the compound, Bucky was just another face on the team, just another good guy. 

The world had an entirely different view though, and that’s why today just like so many other days, Bucky was confined to the compound while the others went off to be heroes. 

It was fine. Bucky wasn’t bitter at all. Not. At. All. 

It wasn’t like he was lonely, or like the quiet made him feel as if he were going insane. It wasn’t like he couldn’t sleep when there was no one else there, not like he tried to sleep and woke up in_ panics because what if he was still in cryo freeze–_

Any way. It was fine. It was all fine. Bucky would go downstairs and make himself a sandwich and maybe watch one of those old spy films Natasha was always watching and try to catch a very quick, nightmare free nap. 

“_The sun is hotttt and that old clockkkk is moving slow! And so am I!_” 

Bucky stopped in his tracks and tilted his head, because he couldn’t possbly be hearing what sounded like a very drunk Clint Barton singing a terribly off tune twang about– 

“_Work day passes li-ike molasses in winner-time! But darlin’ it’s July! Gettin’ paid by the hour, and older by the_–” 

“Barton.” 

“–_minute_–_OHMYGOD_!” Clint _shrieked _and froze mid step, mouth agape, eyes wide, holding a giant sandwich in one hand and a very _very _fruity looking blended drink in the other. “Oh my god. Frosty, my man you scared the shit outta me. What are you doing?” 

“No no.” Bucky shook his head and squinted at the drink, at the triple-quadruple-quintuple layered sandwich, at the way Clint had gotten all six foot three of himself into ratty purple sweatpants and a crop top that _definitely _belonged to Natasha. “What are you doing?” 

“Hanging out.” Clint said, as if that explained anything at all. “What does it look like?” 

“It looks like you’re gettin’ drunk at half past twelve in the afternoon.” Bucky pointed out. “Caterwaulin’ to some awful song, wearing stolen clothes and about to eat enough food to put you into a coma.”

“Is it only half past twelve?” Clint looked faintly surprised, then shrugged it off. “Welp. I’ve been drinking since like ten, and it’s gotta be five o clock somewhere and we’re both benched from the mission. Wanna get drunk with me?” 

“Super soldier.” Bucky said, more than a hint regretfully. He and Clint weren’t exactly friends, but the archer was hilarious and easy going and well– well Bucky had a _type_, and Clint was tall, blonde and had muscles for _days, _which pretty much checked every box Bucky had. 

Plus, Clint had never once looked at Bucky weird or all the brain washing, he never flinched when Bucky wanted to spar, and even though his litany of nicknames for Bucky ranged from ‘Frosty’ to ‘Ye Olde Sourpuss’, they were never said with anything other than easy affection and accompanied by a flirty sort of wink. Besides, sometimes Clint talked bull shit about the other Avengers via sign language, and while Bucky’s sign language was rusty at best, it made him feel a little more _connected _to talk like that anyway. 

“Super soldier.” Bucky repeated, feeling regretful all over again when Clint just _looked _at him. “Can’t get drunk.” 

“Oh, but I can fix that.” Clint’s grin stretched towards goofy and Bucky blinked at the sheer sunniness of it, wondering if he would ever get used to how much he liked Clint’s smile. “Okay so you can’t ever tell anyone? But I guarantee I got something that will get even your delightfully frostbitten ass drunk as a skunk in May.” 

“You’re drunk enough for the both of us.” Bucky decided and Clint’s grin got a little bit bigger. “Besides, me and Stevie– we’ve emptied Tony’s whole cupboard trying to get drunk. Doesn’t work.” 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Clint set his precariously tall sandwich down, and chugged back most of the neon colored blended drink. Then he grabbed at Bucky’s hand– Bucky’s _left _hand– and took off down the corridor, dragging Bucky behind him. 

“Clint– Clint wait–” Bucky found himself laughing without even meaning to, holding onto Clint’s hand and following the archer’s rather clumsy run down towards the bottom floor where Bruce had his lab and his Hulk-out room. “Just wait, what are we doing?” 

“Okay come here.” Clint’s eyes were sparkling bright blue, brilliant and clear and when he stumbled to a stop and Bucky nearly ran into him, they ended up nose to nose, chest to chest, and even though Clint was only an inch or so taller than Bucky, the height difference seemed alot more extreme when they were so close. 

“Wow.” Clint wet his lips and looked Bucky over with a smile that was practically lecherous. “We should get up close and personal a lot more.” 

“You’re drunk.” Bucky said flatly, ignoring the thrill that went through him at Clint’s words, and Clint just nodded in agreement. 

“Totally sloshed, Buck. Totally sloshed. But come and look.” he dragged Bucky over to Bruce’s desk and undid the bottom drawer. “So a few months ago, I triple dog dared Bruce to get the Hulk drunk because Big and Green is kinda like you and Stars and Gripes and he can’t get drunk, right? So Bruce did all this research and experimenting and came up with this!” 

Clint retrieved a flask and held it up triumphantly, and Bucky eyed it skeptically. “What is it?” 

“Moonshine!” Clint crowed. “Just about the purest shit you’ll find outside of Kentucky, you feel me? If this don’t put the _whoo hoo _in your hootenanny, then you’re just outta luck.” 

“Put the whoo hoo in my _what_?” Bucky laughed again and Clint whistled, “Boy howdy Buck, you are mega hot when you laugh. Let’s do more of that right now. This put Bruce in a coma for like three days. Here, bottoms up.” 

“Um–” Bucky looked between the flask and Clint’s eager smile, thought about all the lonely afternoons he’d spent in the compound and how much more fun it would be spend _this _afternoon with Clint, tried to remember the last time he was drunk and wondered what Clint would taste like with moonshine on his lips….

“Bottoms up.” 

*************

*************

“Why are you–” Bucky blinked up at the ceiling, almost a hundred percent sure that it had not been moving in circles earlier that morning. “Why are you wearing Natasha’s crop top?” 

“Because my abs are a national treasure and it’s a damn shame to keep them covered up.” Clint <strike>said </strike>slurred, laying flat on his back on the living room floor. “I mean, have you seen my abs? They’re not All American cheese graters like your boyfriend is packing, but I’d consider them wash board status.” 

“Wash board.” Bucky’s smile was far too wide and he didn’t even care. “Yeah, you are pretty gorgeous.” 

“I know, right?” Clint had pulled a silly straw from.. from somewhere, and it twisted and turned and looped up and around so he could manage to still drink the alarmingly purple liquid on his drink without actually sitting up. “I _am _gorgeous. People are always like ‘oh no, Clint’s got a bandage on his nose again’ and ‘oh no, Clint got hurt again’ but you know what? Not everyone looks sexy rocking bandaids and bruises, okay? I own my disasterness.” 

“S’that why you’re home?” Bucky rolled off the couch and splatted onto the carpet next to Clint, the empty flask of moonshine clattering to the floor as well. “You got banged up last time?” 

“Concussion.” Clint confirmed, slurping through that ridiculous straw. “Bruce said I should sit this one out. Didn’t know you were home too though or I would’a worn something less revealing. At least would’a worn underwear. You know, for modesty’s sake and all that.

“You have no modesty.” 

“_I have exactly no modesty_!” 

It wasn’t funny, not in the least, but both Clint and Bucky cracked up, holding at their sides and _guffawing _at the idea of Clint having any sense of modesty at all. 

“Oh man, I know what we should do.” Clint bolted upright to sitting, then put his hand to his head and collapsed backwards into a heap, cracking his head on the floor and groaning, “Ow pain, that didn’t help my concussion.” If Bucky would have been sober, he would have been embarrassed at the way he snort-laughed, but as it was, the snort just set Clint off into another round of giggles and it was several minutes before they managed to pull themselves together again. 

“Okay okay okay. I was gonna say.” Clint sat up slower this time, rotating to look down at Bucky. “We should play truth or dare. That’s what pretty people do when they drink. Truth or dare. You know how to play that, or was it before your time?” 

“Shut the fuck up and play.” Bucky shoved at Clint’s chest, or at least he meant to shove. It turned into more of a _caress _type situation, and Clint’s eyes got comically wide when Bucky’s fingers lingered at the skin showing beneath his crop top. 

“It’s fuckin’ embarrasing that I’m about to pop an awkward boner cos you touched my tummy.” he announced and when Bucky’s eyes automatically helplessly fell to Clint’s lap, the archer yelped, “Don’t look at it! You’ll scare it away! He’s shy!” 

Bucky’s mouth fell open and Clint gathered enough of his wits to say, “Uh, my dick is not shy. That’s not where that sentence was intended to go. He’s not– he’s not a shy boy. Not at all.” and Bucky fell apart laughing as Clint turned an entirely unhealthy shade of red. 

“Truth or dare!” Bucky finally gasped out, struggling to sit up as well and feeling around for the flask, hoping for another quick drink. “Go on then, play the game!” 

“Alright, ask me a truth.” Clint offered Bucky the rest of his neon drink and Bucky shook his head firmly. 

“M’not drinkin’ that toxic shit. Alright truth. You really as clumsy as you look or do you play it up so people don’t know you’re smart?” 

“I walked into a door yesterday cos Thor swaggered by in his underwear and I almost died.” Clint confirmed, raising his voice to be heard over Bucky’s snickering. “IN MY DEFENSE, have you seen that guy? I would _pay _him to smother me in those thighs.” 

“Oh fuck me, that’s too much truth.” Bucky took a hesitant, tiny sip of Clint’s drink and instantly pulled a face. “My turn.” 

“Truth or dare, Mr. Freeze?” Clint staggered to his feet and wandered over to the bar to get Bucky a beer. “What’ll it be?” 

“Truth.” Bucky said easily, partly cos he was too damn drunk to attempt a dare, partly because for the first time in for ever he felt like maybe opening up a tiny bit. “Let’s hear it.” 

“Yeah alright.” Clint made it back and passed the beer over. “Are you and Steve dating, fucking, have dated or fucked, or in any way have any association with each other’s dicks at all?” 

Bucky stared at him for a full minute and Clint waggled his eyebrows. “C’mon Buck, you knew I was gonna ask. _Everyone _thinks you two are doin’ the knick knack paddy whack so here’s your chance to lay it all out on the—_glmpgh_!?!”

The noise Clint made when Bucky jolted forward and mashed their mouths together was decidedly un sexy and fairly hilarious, but initial weirdness aside, he threw himself whole heartedly into the unexpected kiss. 

Bucky _oophed _when Clint shoved him down to the ground, but then he groaned when the big blond stretched out on top of him, and both of them made _some _sort of noise when the next kiss involved a whole lotta tongue and more than a hint of teeth. 

Clint’s hands were everywhere, callouses lighting up Bucky’s skin as he tried to get underneath Bucky’s shirt, one of his long legs wedged firmly between Bucky’s thighs and when Bucky lifted his hip and _rubbed _against him, Clint cheered, “Hey look, he’s not shy anymore!” and Bucky nearly ruined the moment by dying of laughter. 

“I’m way too drunk for this.” Clint complained as their kisses got messy and hands got sloppy. “Been wanting this for fuckin’ _ever_–” 

“Really?” Bucky asked in surprise. “Me?” 

“Have you _seen _you?” Clint retorted. “But I’m too damn drunk to enjoy it and you outta your mind on moonshine doesn’t feel like real agreement and–” 

“Shut up.” Bucky grumbled and shoved his hand down the back of those ugly sweatpants to get a big handful of booty. “M’not too drunk to not know what m’doin!” 

“Okay okay okay–” Clint tore their mouths apart and all but attacked Bucky’s neck, leaving harsh kisses and bruising bites down the clear skin and working his tongue over the scars where metal met flesh and when he moaned, “Fuck, baby, you’re so gorgeous do you know that?”–

–Bucky went still for a few seconds, wrapped his arms tight around Clint and just held him, rocked by a wave of emotion and vulnerability and god damn it maybe he _was _too drunk if being called gorgeous made him want to cry–

“Clint?” he asked, and when there was no answer, when it suddenly registered that Clint felt heavier than usual against him, Bucky leaned away to peer down at the blond. “Clint are you–” 

“–Jesus fuck, you’re passed the hell out.” he said in exasperation, and Clint– who was very much passed the hell out because he’d been drinking for the last six hours and was only human, after all– just snored away peacefully. 

“Oh my god.” Bucky rolled to the side so he wouldn’t squash Clint flat. “Okay well you know what, maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a minute too. Been a while since I’ve been drunk, forgot that it could make you so tired….” 

**************

**************

“Okay but like–” Sam gestured helplessly to the living room, to the sight of Clint passed out in ratty clothes with the remnants of several fruity drinks and what looked like a silly straw surround him, and then to Bucky, who was open mouthed snoring, hair a wreck, an empty flask near his hand. “–What in the fuck happened here?” 

“I dunno, but it’s a pretty good bet that Cap disapproves.” Tony swatted Steve on the rear and grinned. “Don’t look so upset, babe. What did you expect Clint and Bucky to do if we left them here alone?” 

“I didn’t expect to come back and find them passed out drunk at four thirty in the afternoon.” Steve said flatly. “It’s not even five o clock. I thought people weren’t supposed to drink until five o clock? How are they already this drunk?” 

“Oh come on, you know the song.” Tony shoved his boyfriend towards the elevator so they could get undressed from the fight. “It’s always five o clock in Margaritaville.” 

“I do not know that song.” Steve insisted, his voice fading away as Tony herded him down the hall. “I do not know that song! It’s not five o clock, it’s four thirty! Clint is a terrible influence on Bucky!” 

“Who do you think started drinking?” Sam asked Natasha. “Clint or Bucky?” 

“It was definitely Clint.” She decided. “Probably drinking those weird fruity mixed drinks he pretends are completely manly. They all have names like _Juicy Lucy_ and _Dances with Wenches_ or some other beachy bullshit. Honestly, I’m just impressed their clothes are still on.” 

“You and me both.” Sam tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. “Tash, is Clint wearing your crop top?” 

“You know what? I don’t want to talk about it.” 


End file.
